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[indent][indent] [color=#808080]The world outside the stables met Anissa with a crisp, honest cold, a welcome change from the suffocating and unnatural chill that had seized her from within the night before. That had been a gnawing freeze born deep in her core, one that had left her feeling gutted and ill. This winter air was different; it was real and present, nipping at her cheeks and crystallizing her breath in white puffs that misted the lenses of her sunglasses.[/color]

[color=#808080]During all of this, the exchange with Maylisse began its insistent cycle in her mind, an intrusive recording she lacked the power to stop.[/color]

[i][color=#a9c9eb]Everyone is part of a test.[/color][/i]
[i][color=#a9c9eb]Rot.[/color][/i]
[i][color=#a9c9eb]Cut it out.[/color][/i]
[i][color=#a9c9eb]Who does he actually tell anything to?[/color][/i]

[color=#808080]Her jaw flexed, and behind the shelter of her dark lenses, her gaze lifted sharply toward the stable’s roof as if she could burn a hole through the wood and peer directly into Maylisse’s thoughts. It would have been so much simpler if the other girl had just been openly malicious. Cruelty was straightforward; it could be dismissed, categorized neatly under [i]she’s a bitch[/i] and mentally discarded.[/color]

[color=#808080]But Maylisse’s approach hadn’t been hostile. It had been more… analytical. Dispassionate. She'd possessed a sterilized coolness that had raised the fine hairs on Anissa’s arms, triggering a deep-seated alarm within her. It was unnervingly reminiscent of the way certain professionals had once assessed her. Their expressions had been neutral and their terms clinical as they murmured words like "histrionic" like a diagnosis of a chronic, shameful condition.[/color]

[color=#5a3e85]“Heat makes things fester,”[/color][color=#808080] Anissa muttered under her breath, her lips barely moving as she started walking. [/color][color=#5a3e85]“Yeah, well. So does never opening the windows.” [/color]

[color=#808080]The temporary peace she’d found inside was already dissolving. The solid comfort of the mare’s body, the soothing rhythm of grooming, the fleeting sense of purpose—it had all been an effective distraction. But crossing that threshold back into the world shattered the illusion, and the weight of her larger predicament came crashing down. A far more significant issue was waiting, doubtless in the training arena. To be specific, it was a single individual, a man whose frame seemed built of pure strength and whose voice had, less than sixty minutes ago, reverberated across the entire camp with an announcement that probably startled everyone from their sleep.[/color]

[color=#808080]And then there was the damn napkin. It was no longer sitting on her nightstand, of course, but now tucked safely into the inner pocket of her sweatshirt. A tangible backup plan, in case her own voice failed her and her tongue couldn’t quite form all the questions screaming to be asked later on.[/color]

[color=#808080]The short path from the stables to the arena wound between cabins and bare-limbed trees, all stark lines and patchy snow. Anissa kept her head down and her pace steady, relying on her sunglasses and resting bitch face to do most of the social deflection for her if necessary. However, it appeared she would be one of the last stragglers heading toward the arena, which [/color][color=#808080][i]should[/i][/color][color=#808080] have been perfect. If the universe had any compassion at all, there would be at least three or four other demigods stumbling along the path with her, looking equally exhausted and morally defeated as she felt. [/color]

[color=#808080]But no.[/color]
[color=#808080]Of course not.[/color]
[color=#808080]The walkway was emptier than a shelf after her mother declared something “out of season.”[/color]

[color=#808080]There were no dazed, hungover campers to hide behind.[/color]
[color=#808080]No slow-moving groups to use as a buffer.[/color]
[color=#808080]Not even the welcome distraction of someone losing their breakfast in the shrubs to grant her a few precious seconds of unnoticed arrival.[/color]
[color=#808080]It was just her. Solitary. Accompanied only by her own turbulent thoughts and the winter breeze.[/color]

[color=#808080]On a technicality, this was a good thing, she reasoned. If River was already inside, she wouldn't have to suffer the immediate, gut-punch sight of him. Yet, the utter lack of a crowd was a catastrophe. It left her with two equally terrible choices:[/color]

[color=#808080][list=1]1. Walk in right now, alone, and be immediately spotted like a deer in an open field.

2. Wait outside, also alone, and risk the equally humiliating outcome of being late on day one, which would make her look irresponsible, unserious, and also deeply suspicious.[/list][/color]
[color=#808080]So, the only solution left for her was to simply…raw-dog the situation. [/color][i][color=#5a3e85]Good morning, Anissa, [/color][/i][color=#808080]she thought,[/color][color=#5a3e85][i] Time to confront the consequences of your continuous poor decision-making.[/i][/color]

[color=#808080]She attempted to split the difference, adopting what she termed a "strategically moderate tempo." It was brisk enough to convey intention yet leisurely enough to suggest she wasn't in any particular hurry, all while secretly praying a door would fly open and release a handful of other latecomers to create the cover she craved.[/color]

[color=#808080]But no one appeared.[/color]
[color=#808080]She wasn't surprised.[/color]

[color=#808080]The arena rose before her, a formidable circle of stone and metal and, if she had to guess, magic, making it look a little like some kind of budget Olympus coliseum. The only hints of activity were the muffled sounds of conversation from within and a persistent, vibrational hum that she assumed was from enchantments meant to mitigate the winter chill. A gust of heated air, reminiscent of the party the night before, rolled out from the entrance tunnel, washing over Anissa’s face as she stepped under the archway and immediately making her regret all the layers she’d put on. [/color]

[color=#808080]The cavernous interior of the arena unfolded before her, a vast expanse of dust-moted air and intimidating scale. Just as she had predicted, most of the campers were already present, dotting the rising rows of stone benches. Some were huddled in conversation while others sat in isolated silence, all united by a shared sense of anticipation for whatever was to come. Her gaze performed a swift, covert scan of the area, and she felt a tight coil of anxiety in her chest loosen a fraction. There was no sign of River, which was a brief pardon, she was certain, but one she would gratefully accept.[/color]

[color=#808080]What was impossible to miss, however, was the monstrous arrangement dominating the arena floor.[/color]

[color=#808080]Anissa froze just inside the entrance, one foot still slightly behind the other as if her body was debating a full retreat. She pushed her sunglasses up onto her head, her eyes widening as they adjusted to the light and the scale of the task before her.[/color]

[color=#808080]The course sprawled across the packed earth in a sadistically organized path, each segment laid out with brutal clarity like a curated selection of her worst nightmares.[/color]

[color=#808080]The starting point was a double line of massive truck tires. They appeared innocuous, just rubber and air, and yet her mind instantly conjured a humiliating image of her foot catching on a rim, sending her sprawling into the dirt in a tangle of uncooperative limbs.[/color]

[color=#808080]Beyond the tires, a line of log hurdles marched steadily upward in height—one foot, two, three, four, then five. By the end of the row, the last log was less “little hop” and more “congratulations, soldier, now please detach your soul from your knees and launch.” Anissa imagined clipping her toe on the four-foot and nearly eating shit, and told herself that perhaps after a couple of these she at least might have an even more amazing ass than she already possessed. What a bright side she managed to find there.[/color]

[color=#808080]Next was a low crawl, a shallow trench filled not with forgiving mud but with fine, abrasive sand. A brief moment of gratitude was swiftly overtaken by a wave of practical horror as she envisioned the state of her leggings and the newly healed scars on her knees. But these concerns were dwarfed by the sight of the next station: a heavy, twenty-foot cord dangling from a beam high overhead, its tip brushing the earth. Tidy pails of chalk were placed nearby, a feeble consolation against the glaring reality that her arm strength was better suited for lifting shopping bags than propelling her entire weight upward. So, this particular challenge, she understood with a sinking feeling, had the greatest potential for public failure. [/color]

[color=#808080]Next to the rope, a rope-net bridge stretched between two platforms, each section of knotted lines swaying gently even without anyone on it. A sign helpfully declared [/color][color=#808080][b]NO FALLING[/b][/color][color=#808080] in bold letters, which she could only assume was meant to be ironic, given there was absolutely nothing but dirt beneath it. Then came the rope swing, which was dangled over a battered pit. Anissa eyed it with the wary caution of a girl who knew her limits. Whatever was in there, she wanted absolutely none of it touching her. [/color]

[color=#808080]She reached up and gave her ponytail a resigned pat.[/color]

[color=#808080]This was peak Tarzan territory. Meanwhile, she was channelling Jane — specifically the Jane who once shrieked about being rescued by a “flying wild man in a loincloth.” Which, frankly, was the appropriate reaction to [/color][color=#808080][i]any [/i][/color][color=#808080]of this.[/color]

[color=#808080]Anissa didn’t even bother to take in the rest of the daunting setup, her mind slowly beginning to realize that it was no obstacle course at all. Instead, it was a guided tour of all the ways her body reminded her why she would always prefer traversing packed malls over boot camps.[/color]

[color=#808080]Still, beneath the dread and the pre-emptive muscle soreness, a different feeling began to flutter. A tiny part of her wondered what it would feel like to actually make it through all of this. To climb the rope without slipping. To cross the bridge without falling. To, overall, achieve something objectively arduous and have the victory be so concrete, so visible to everyone, that it could never be brushed aside as another one of her exaggerations or inventions. Was this the unspoken lesson the universe had arranged for her? And, dare she hope, a weird sort of gift?[/color]

[color=#808080]Her gaze dropped, and her hand drifted almost unconsciously to the front pocket of her sweatshirt once more, her fingertips finding the papery crinkle of the napkin within. It was such a delicate object, so vulnerable to being ripped or lost, yet it contained the proof of his handwriting, his unexpected care, and the unvoiced promise that he had wanted to remain. With her.

She allowed her palm to press against the hidden message for a sustained second before drawing her arm back, fighting the compulsion to pull it out and read his words again in front of everyone. She balled her hand into a fist at her hip, shaking it slightly to cast off the jittery tension coursing through her. Then, having run out of reasons to stall, Anissa raised her head.[/color]

[color=#808080]This time, she didn’t need to scan the crowd. Her line of sight travelled past the tires and the escalating hurdles, moving over a sea of unknown faces and forms, until it settled directly on River as if pulled by an invisible string.[/color]

[color=#808080]He stood near Heath with a clipboard in hand, his attention nowhere near the page. Because he was already looking at her. Not just in her general direction but right [/color][color=#808080][i]at [/i][/color][color=#808080]her.[/color]

[color=#808080]For a heartbeat that appeared to stretch into an eternity, the surrounding commotion all faded into a dull buzz. The distance between them felt like it collapsed, isolating them in a bubble of silence: the young woman in a cartoon sloth sweater guarding a paper treasure, and the instructor who had placed his scribbled regret where she would be sure to find it. The final occasion she had witnessed that specific expression on his features, her fuzzy memory supplied helpfully, she’d been settled comfortably in his lap while the night sky detonated in colour above them. Now, there was no festive chaos, no alcohol-fueled boldness, and no place to hide. All that existed was the honest daylight and a distinct tenderness in his eyes that was meant for her...and her alone.[/color]

[color=#808080]Anissa, though she was no nebbish,  felt the impulse to look away, to pretend she hadn’t noticed him and save herself the risk. Instead, the bravest part of her, the part that had climbed into his lap that night, nudged her hand into motion. She lifted her hand just a few inches from her side, her fingers curling inward in a questioning wave.[/color]

[color=#808080]It was nothing like the wild, wobbly arc she remembered from the party. This one was smaller, more contained, but somehow felt far more revealing. A quiet, [/color][i][color=#808080]I see you looking. And I remember… mostly. Do you?[/color][/i]

[color=#808080]Across the arena, River’s shoulders eased, something almost imperceptible unwinding in his posture. The corner of his mouth curved into a soft and stupidly genuine smile, and his own hand rose in a mirror of her motion, offering a reciprocal wave that felt like a private conversation happening across a crowded room.[/color]

[color=#808080]A burning flush ignited at Anissa’s collar, spreading quickly up her neck and heating her face. She dropped her hand, a brief, unguarded smile appearing before she concealed her eyes behind the familiar barrier of her sunglasses. Needing an escape from the charged atmosphere, she scanned the stands for a safer focal point—and found one. A bundled-up form was slumped on a bench, looking as thoroughly defeated as Anissa herself felt, a clear veteran of the same long night.[/color]

[color=#808080][i]Blair. Bless the gods.[/i][/color]

[color=#808080]Here was her refuge. She could slide onto the bench next to Blair in a show of hungover solidarity, offer some silent moral support, and use her presence as a shield to fake her way through this entire ordeal. They weren't the closest of friends, but Blair had been decent to her at the party, a gesture that carried significant weight for someone who was fairly certain she’d managed to irritate at least a few people before the night was through (she still hadn't caught sight of Anatoliy, for which she was mildly grateful).[/color]

[color=#808080]Anissa made for the steps, shoes scuffing lightly as she climbed, taking her time partly because her stomach still remembered last night and partly because every motion felt like it might draw River’s attention again, and she didn’t think she was ready for a sequel of whatever exchange they'd just had.[/color]

[color=#808080]It was only as she drew closer that she noticed the redheaded girl already occupying the space on the bench beside Blair. And then, as if the cosmos had a flair for the dramatic, another person slid smoothly into the spot on Blair's other side. He settled in with the unthinking ease of someone who belonged there. He had dark hair, was dressed for a workout, and held a water bottle, which he now gently wedged between Blair's side and her limp, folded arm.[/color]

[color=#808080]His voice, though low, carried just enough on the air for her to catch the words.[/color]

[color=#8e0047]"I haven’t seen you like that in a while. You manage to get to your own cabin in one piece?"[/color]

[color=#808080]Sibling, Anissa guessed immediately. Or something close enough. The tone had that fond-exasperated quality that didn’t usually exist between casual acquaintances. Great. So not just strangers but strangers who actually knew each other.[/color]

[color=#808080]Her forward momentum stalled. She found herself hovering a row below them, acutely conscious that she was on the verge of intruding on a tight-knit circle where she was very much an outsider.[/color]

[color=#5a3e85][i]You don’t know these people,[/i][/color][color=#808080] Anissa reminded herself sternly. Blair probably only remembered her in fragments. And now the "tequila-and-couch" girl from the party was preparing to invade this private recovery session, bringing nothing to the table but her own nervous energy and a pocketful of emotional baggage. The simplest solution was to turn around, to melt away into the anonymity of the higher rows where she could be invisible and unbothered. She could always try to catch Blair's eye another time. Or just… never mention it.[/color]

[color=#808080]But then, a shift of movement at the main entrance snagged her attention.[/color]

[color=#808080]She glanced down. Maylisse had just walked in.[/color]

[color=#808080]The other young woman entered the training ground’s humid air with an air of inherent ownership, her winter coat arranged perfectly and her demeanour composed and utterly self-possessed. Her gaze swept across the assembled campers, methodically noting and evaluating each one—a mirror of her behaviour in the stables. But the moment her assessing look found Anissa, it stopped dead.[/color]

[color=#808080]A transformation occurred.[/color]

[color=#808080]The barest hint of a smile touched her lips, vanishing as quickly as it appeared. But that fleeting expression was enough to ignite a spark of apprehension in Anissa’s stomach. It carried a disturbing air of acknowledgment, even satisfaction. It was the look of a scientist who had just seen a lab animal make the predicted choice, and was now waiting to observe how it would navigate the maze.[/color]

[color=#a9c9eb][i]Everyone is part of a test.[/i][/color]

[color=#808080]Anissa didn’t want to be someone’s test subject. Not hers. Not Poseidon’s. Not anyone’s. She broke eye contact first, tearing her gaze away from Maylisse and up toward Blair’s row again. The trio at the top of the stands suddenly seemed like the lesser of two evils. So, before she could talk herself out of it, Anissa climbed the remaining steps.[/color]

[color=#808080]Up close, the evidence of Blair’s rough night was even more pronounced, making her appearance at the arena a feat of pure determination. The jacket was still draped over her face like a funeral shroud, with messy locks of hair splaying out from underneath as if she’d lost a violent battle with her bedding. Even the water bottle nestled against her ribcage looked precarious, as if one deep sigh would send it clattering to the stone below.[/color]

[color=#808080]Anissa stopped at the side of their row, fingers flexing where they wrapped around her own water bottle. She managed a soft, hesitant sound in her throat. [/color]

[color=#5a3e85]“Um…hi.”[/color]

[color=#808080]Smooth. Flawless. Absolutely not weird.[/color]

[color=#808080]She winced internally, but kept going before any of them could ask why she sounded like she was about to ask for directions in a foreign country.[/color]

[color=#5a3e85]“I, uh—” [/color][color=#808080] She gestured weakly toward Blair’s concealed figure. [/color][color=#5a3e85]“[i]We[/i] met yesterday.”[/color]
[/indent][/indent][hr][sub][color=9b9b9b][b][i]Location: Stables --> Arena 
Interactions: River, Blair, Fiona, Lochlan
Mentions: Maylisse, Heath [/i][/b][/color][/sub]